Do I Know You?
by Shelby
Summary: Angel looks familiar to Roger. Roger looks familiar to Angel. Angel flashes back. Okay, so _this_ is the dumbest thing I've ever written!!


"Angel, this is Roger Davis

Author's Note: Stupid. Completely stupid. It just popped into my head one day, but yanno, what the hell! I might as well post it. 

Hope y'all like it better than I do.

~~

"Angel, this is Roger Davis." 

Collins beamed, and introduced his new companion to the blonde-haired songwriter. Angel smiled cheerfully, and shook his large hand. 

"Nice to meet you Roger." 

"Yeah, me too," Roger said, looking at Angel's sweet countenance with a slightly bewildered look to him. Angel equally had a vaguely puzzled expression as he studied Roger's face, and lean body. 

_Roger Davis…where have I heard that name before? _

A moment of uneasy silence passed, before Roger finally thought to let go of Angel's hand. The transvestite nodded, and turned his head to look at Collins, who had started talking again. 

"You and Roger should have a lot in common, he's a musician too." 

"Oh?" Angel said, tilting his head to the side. "What do you play?"

"The guitar." Roger shrugged, and sighed. "I'm not perfect at it though." 

"I play the drums," Angel laughed melodiously. "And likewise, am not perfect." 

"You're good." Collins said, running a hand through the bottom of Angel's hair. "Better than I ever could be." 

"It's just practice." 

"I suppose." 

Angel tried to stay concentrated on what Collins was saying, but his eyes kept going back to Roger. He looked so familiar…and that name…

Where the hell had he heard it before? 

~~

"You're a little fag _Angel._"

"Shut up." Angel edged slightly, biting his lower lip to force back tears. The seven-year-old boy was standing outside at recess with his hands on his hips, facing five other male peers, some almost twice his size. One particular classmate sneered, green eyes glinting. Clouds had begun to gather over the smoky New York horizon, and it was a guarantee that a storm was approaching. 

"Ooh, wittle baby Angel gonna go tell his daddy on us?" The boy laughed, and advanced towards Angel threateningly. 

"Go away, I didn't do anything to you." 

"Yer a fuckin' fag _Angel._ That's what you did." 

The boys liked putting Angel's name after every sentence, if just to rub in its difference from the usual male names. Angel hated recess, he hated it more than anything. Sometimes, he'd get into trouble with the teacher just so he could stay in the nice, safe classroom and escape the heaps of insult and torment waiting to be tossed upon him. 

Today was no different. 

"What's a matter, are you gonna cry?" The boy smirked again, and Angel found himself right up in front of his tormentor. "Go run to your boyfriend, _Angel._" 

"I don't have a boyfriend." Angel backed away, and trembled. _Please just go away._

"But you want one, doncha ya little Puerto Rican faggot." 

"Just-" Angel's hands twitched slightly, and his heart burst into a strange sort of rage. "Just go away!" 

"Watch out!" One of the boys behind the leader laughed, "He might kiss ya!" 

"I will not!" Angel shouted, and lept towards the group of boys. In an instant, he found himself pinned to the ground kicking and squealing in pain as fists flew at every angle. He would once again go home with bruises. Not that his parents cared, his momma would always say he was just "playin' with the boys," like he was playing football or somethin'. And every time Angel would cast down his eyes and mumur, "Yes Mama, I was just playin' with the boys." He never told his parents just what "playin' with the boys" actually was, for fear of what would happen. Not fear of getting in trouble…

But the overwhelming fear that they just wouldn't care. 

"What is going on here?" A teacher's voice yelled, and soon enough, the group of kids were pulled off of the battered and bruised Angel. Blood trickled from his lip, and his right eye was swollen. "Angel?" 

Angel's amber eyes welled up with tears, and they began flooding his cheeks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the triumphantly smug looks hovering on each of his combatant's faces. 

Angel buried his face in his hands, and scrubbed at the tears furiously. _Boys don't cry._ He said to himself. _Only sissy little girls cry. Boys don't, they yell, and they fight, but they don't cry._

But the tears continued to stream down his red cheeks. 

_Stop crying you stupid, stupid kid!_ He thought again, shaking. _That's just what they want, to see you cry like a girl._

"Angel, what happened?"

"Nofin'." Angel murmured, and shrunk back away from the teacher's touch on his arm. "Nofin' happened."

The teacher sighed, and stood back up. "I'll send you to the nurse, and she'll bandage you up. Go on then." 

Angel stood up, and walked slowly away. For a moment, though, he stopped and listened as the teacher turned to reprimand the group of boys. She turned to the "leader" with a stern face, and crossed her arms. 

"You'd better listen up and listen good Roger Davis."

_Roger Davis._

~~

_Roger Davis!_

Angel's eyes widened for a moment, and his jaw dropped slightly. This, in fact, was his daily tormentor in the flesh. Same green eyes, the burning flame a bit smoldered, but still there. And blonde hair flopping messily in an assortment of directions. He had certainly gotten taller, but the strong, lean frame was still there. 

"Is there something wrong Angel?" Collins looked at the transvestite, somewhat worried. Angel blinked out of his shock, and laughed slightly. 

"Oh, no. Roger just…looked familiar."   
Angel looked back at Roger, and pursed his lips ever so vaguely, shrinking back into a half slump. 

Roger then realized what he was doing. It was an imitation of the stance so frequented by…_Angel. _

"Did you go to the elementary school a few blocks down from Avenue B?" Roger suddenly blurted out. 

Angel nodded. "Yhep." Pause. "So did you." 

"What a minute," Collins chuckled, "you two know each other?"

Roger and Angel exchanged looks, a sort of mutual understanding. Roger still couldn't believe it. This was little Angel, who always ended up getting bruised by him and his fellow ignorants. He certainly looked slightly the same, amber eyes still filled with a sort of glimmering curiosity, and his femininity had only flourished since Roger's prejudiced teasing days. 

"Yeah," Angel said finally. "We know each other." He smiled at Collins, then sent another small smile Roger's way. 

Roger did not smile back, but a small flame burned in his green eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched up slightly. "But I'm anxious to know Angel better." 


End file.
